Hello everyone! This is my first Sherlolly fic. I hope you like it. I have the next chapters in my mind if you like this first one. It was fun to write it hope, it will be fun to read it. My first language is not English, but I try my best. If there's anybody who would be so kind to beta my story I would be very happy, but I really don't want to cause problem to anybody. Thanks.

Lanceletta

Now let's start!

Part 1

Ch1

'Nooo, he didn't, did he?' Molly was absolutely stunned but almost unable to articulate of cackling.
'Please don't say more 'couse I won't make it until I reach the loo.' Molly tried to calm herself down which seemed to be a quite difficult task, considering the fact that she had an equally tipsy, giggling Mary Morstan by her side.

Molly and Mary were sitting in a city bar newly opened and were sipping their suspiciously colourful cocktails. It was half past eleven and Mary's big night, last night out without having a husband. The bar's interior was created carefully. Everything was deep red and warm and fluffy. Huge couches, soft armchairs and big pillows were everywhere. The dance floor was crowded by tipsy dancing people, usually a little younger than told women and the music was loud and pulsating. They were sitting on a huge couch in one corner with legs tucked beneath them.

'Can you imagine John walking out from my bedroom to greet my mother in only a huge white sheet covering his naked lower body?' Mary asked trying to catch her breath.
'Oh, I don't think it would be proper to imagine.' Molly laughed grimacing.
'My mum was breathless. At least it was quite a good lesson for her not to use her spare key to my flat without prior discuss.' They finally managed to stop laughing hysterically.
'Let's have another round, Molls!'
'Really? I am already sure that there will be huge gaps in tonight's memories tomorrow.'
'Hahaaa, then youuu have to admit that youuuu've lost the drinking competition!'
'Nooo way!' and Molly waved for another round. Marry put out her phone from her purse and started to type with uncertain fingers.
'What are you doing?'
'I text John to ask how his bachelor party is.'
'No. I promised you that I won't allow you to call or text him. Remember? You two agreed not to contact each other at your last single night.' And with that Molly snatched the phone away from her friend.
'Awhh. You can't be so cruel.'
'Yes, I can! Drink!' And Molly pointed at Mary's drink and took a sip from her own. 'I can easily drink you under the table.'
'Hahh, that would be practically a miracle.' snapped Mary and drunk half of her cocktail.
'I have an idea. You can text Sherlock - it's not against the rules - and ask him how John is.' Mary raised her eyebrows questioningly.
Molly hesitated for a moment and nodded.
'I think I can do that. With one condition. You never ever try matchmaking again.'
It was Mary's time to hesitate.
'Cruel condition, but...it's a deal.' and Mary offered her hand. Molly took and shook it, ordered another round and took her phone into her hands.
'Ok, then. What do you want me to write?'

Mary asks if John is all right. M

John says he is fine and asks the same. SH

She is fine too just misses John. M

Seriously? Hope we won't do this all night. SH

I don't know. Hope not. Mary asks if you will have a stripper. M

John says she shouldn't ask questions which she doesn't want to be answered. SH

Mary says we will have one. Hope he won't be too embarrassing. M

Harry organised the party so we will definitely have to suffer a stripper. SH

...

You won't believe it but our stripper is here. Guess what costume he wears. M

I don't do guesses. SH

Long black coat, blue scarf and deerstalker. It's hilarious. He wears a Sherlock Holmes costume. M

Molly had been in love with Sherlock for years, since the day she saw him. She was dreaming about him. Romantic dinners, walks, proposal, marriage, kids, happiness. Or sometimes just absolutely hot, passionate sex.
Then Sherlock was hiding in her flat almost for a year and they became like sister and brother. One day when Molly recognised that she was no longer infatuated in Sherlock she shared this information with him in the middle of a fight over the laundry. Really, it should not have been a big deal for a grown man to put his dirty socks into the laundry bag. When the relieving fact slipped out of her mouth, Sherlock cleared his throat, swallowed hard and murmured quietly 'Well, that's good.' After that day he had always put his socks into the laundry bag.
And after that day Molly never shuttered in his presence.

We are on our way. John wants to see him. Actually I think John wants to see me watching the stripper doing his job. SH

Mary offered him 30 pounds if he doesn't strip. Ahh, that's my luck...M

You want to see him? SH

I'd rather see the real one. Mo

I thought you are over me. SH

I am, but I still think you are hot. M

Sorry I am totally drunken by now, I think. M

Nice dress. Red suits you. SH

'Oh, you are here!' Molly blushed and turned to face the tall detective who was standing right behind her and looked down at her with an amused smile. He wore white dressing shirt and the usual black trousers.
'Thank God, we don't have to go on with that idiotic texting.' she continued watching John and Mary vanishing on the dance floor.
'Let's sit down, we have to babysit those two' She sighed and walked towards the huge fluffy couch where the stripper was still waiting, perhaps to show his ... knowledge. Molly lumped down next to him and patted his knee with emphatic expression and said.
'Sorry mate.'
She crossed her legs and looked up at Sherlock who was wrinkling and hesitating to sit down or not.

He bent down to the poor stripper boy and said.
'I give you another 30 if you go home.'
The man looked up and with stunned face shouted.
'Oh. My. God. You are him. Oh. My. God.' he was literally panting. 'I am a huge fan.'
'Yes, I can see that. So?'
'I can't go home yet. I have two more round tonight. You are quite popular recently.' he winked. Molly couldn't stand but giggling.
'Sixty?'
'But what about my reputation?!'
'Ninety.' and with that Sherlock gave him some cash from his pocket. The stripper stood up and stepped towards Sherlock.
'Just one more thing' he started with a shy smile 'are you shaving...there? Just want to be authentic, you know.' and he licked his upper lip looking Sherlock down from head to toe. Sherlock eyebrows arched to his forehead in surprise and said on a low,
steady but tensed voice.
'Go. Home.'
The stripper started to walk towards the main door but before disappearing he turned to speak over his shoulders to Molly who was a laughing mass on the couch.
'Told you he's not gay, sweetie. Have better luck than me!' and he sent a last wink towards Sherlock and disappeared. Sherlock sat down beside the chuckling Molly.
'That was absurd, you know. Like a metaphor. Sherlock Holmes was flirting with himself. The only person who deserves his full attention.' Molly giggled.
'I can't see what is funny.' Sherlock furrowed with piqued expression but then he couldn't stand but snorted. They were panting from laughing next to each other when Sherlock's phone buzzed and he read the message with a calming sigh.

Don't come to Baker Street till morning. Please. JW

Sherlock rolled his eyes a hissed through his teeth something what sounded like "fuckyoujohnwattson".
'What?' asked Molly still breathing hard.
'Apparently we are not needed here anymore and I better find a place to sleep. Our love birds ... well... occupied Baker Street.'
Molly giggled.
'We should have known they would step off. Come on. You can stay in my place since I still have the spare room and actually even your dressing gown is still there somewhere deep in the cupboard.'
'You kept my dressing gown?'
'Yes, one doesn't know when she has to hide a dead bloke.' Molly smiled warmly. Those days were not totally inconvenient. They got on unexpectedly well, except lying to best friends, avoid letting anybody into her flat, constantly being concerned about Sherlock's life when he was away, Molly would say it was fun.

Sherlock nodded and followed Molly up to the stairs.
'Well, it is really not a coincidence that every book of common courtesies says that men shouldn't follow women up to stairs.' Sherlock noted under his breath looking at Molly's backside in her tight red dress in front of him with a wide grin.
'What?' Molly turned back asking but she missed the next step, lost her balance and slipped backwards right into Sherlock's arms.
'They definitely didn't count on drunken ladies.' He said with an amused smile placing Molly back onto her feet but now he stepped next to her and kept his right hand on her lower back to keep her safe.
'Yeah, but shut up. I'm sure that they were definitely written for not drunken gentlemen.'
'I am not drunk.' Sherlock responded huffily.
'Ohho-ho, pleeease. You don't fool me. I know you better than this.' Molly giggled.
'Well, maybe. A little.' He admitted with a grimace.

In the cab Molly was humming some summer hit previously played in the pub and was smiling looking out the window and watching the lights of late night London.

Sherlock was leaning back on his side of the seat, eyes closed, and was trying to detach his sober thoughts from his drunken ones. He failed. All his drunken thoughts were about Molly, which was not really surprising because since that fight when Molly told him that she was no longer in love with him blindly, his sober thoughts always found her when he was not on a case. It was a squeeze inside his stomach, an object in his throat knowing that now he was not the most important thing in her life. And the worst was that it was not because something new became the first on the list but he just simply lost his status. He really didn't like that feeling. One of his drunken - definitely a drunken one - thought said that he wanted to be the one and only again. He would do almost anything to hit the target. He half opened his eyes and watched Molly from the corner of his eyes. She was different now, she developed self-confident, she was still warm and caring, but she developed to wear a shell too. Her emotions weren't as opened anymore, she kept her real feelings from others, she built her own ebony tower and locked her heart in it. It was perfect and impregnable. Sherlock was wondering if he was the reason of that. He thought he was.

Molly saw Sherlock's face reflecting in the cab's window. She saw him stealing a glance at her too. She smiled and started humming again. Molly knew that the days when Sherlock could read her so easily were over. While they were living together she learned how to hide things from him, because she needed some privacy, at least in her head. Along that year she had to lie to everybody she cared, had to pretend grief, and had to pretend to be calm and sad, when she was nervous and harassed knowing Sherlock had gone out to fight his enemies and she had learnt how to wear her own mask. Molly smirked at the thought that sometimes even the great Sherlock Holmes didn't know what was in her head. And it made him nervous. Oh, yeah, he was very irritated in these moments. Her smile widened. Sometimes he even shuttered when they were alone in the lab or the morgue. That was amusing.

When the cab arrived at Molly's house they got out. Molly left Sherlock to pay while she walked to the main door and was searching for her keys in her impossibly big and deep purse. She gave up and leaned to the doorframe and waited for Sherlock.

Sherlock bent down to pay the driver when the cabbie said grinning towards Molly.
'Nice catch, mate! You've got your lucky night.' he winked. Sherlock frowned and hissed through his teeth. 'Shut up.' The drivers grin faded away and drove off without another word.
'C'mon, Sherlock, open it. I can't find my keys. I know you've kept yours.'
'I am absolutely not surprised. This oversized bag is like a black hole.' he said ironically while was taking his keys and opened the door.

Molly kicked down her shoes and dropped her back onto the drawers in the anteroom. Walking into the kitchen she asked Sherlock.
'Want something to drink? Whiskey, coffee, tea, wine, milk, water?'
Sherlock took off his own shoes and coat, and flang down to the familiar couch and sighed.
'I think coffee would be the wisest.'
'Okay, then whiskey.' Said Molly cheerfully and took out two glasses. Sherlock snorted but didn't object.
'Ahhh, my feet are killing me. I shouldn't dance too much in my new shoes.' Molly hissed as he sat down on the coach next to Sherlock and gave him his glass. They nipped in silence both were staring at the ceiling. Sherlock took a deep breath and a downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the small dark brown coffee table.
'Give them to me.'
'What?'
'Your feet.' He held out his hands. Molly was surprised but couldn't resist to the promise of a good foot massage. She took her bare feet into Sherlock's lap without another word and leaned back on the couch resting her head on its soft arm. Her long light brown hair was hanging down almost reaching the floor and she took one forearm over her eyes to disbar the small light coming from the standing lamp behind the couch.
Sherlock took one small foot in his hands and started to stroke it methodically with his long fingers. First the ankle than the soft arch than the tiny toes.
'Oh God. If I had known that you are such good at this I would make you massage me in exchange for food every day when you lived here.'
Sherlock swallowed hard but continued to run his hands on her soft foot applying light strokes combining with strong pressures. Molly groaned with content and sighed with relief.
Sherlock continued working on her other foot with increasing heartbeat and blew out a long, shaking, silent sigh while was watching the small woman stretching under his fingers.

His stroking found its way on her instep then continued with small circles around her ankle and up to her calves. When he reached the silky back of her knees it was rather stroking than massaging and Molly was sure that this definitely wasn't part of any type of therapeutical massaging. She inhaled deeply however she didn't move just was waiting what was next. She wasn't really totally in love with him anymore, but the warm summer night and - let's be honest - the few drinks pulled out some feelings from her dig long ago. If you have loved somebody once, he will never be out of your system completely.
Sherlock closed his eyes and was just abandoned himself to the sensation of the alcohol's beneficial effect on his inhibitions and Molly's soft, silky skin under his fingers. When he reached the hem of her skirt, he knew exactly what was going to happen and that there was no way back then, not that he wanted to back out at all.
'I... uhm ... so ... ' Molly started on a dim voice but didn't dare to continue. He smiled at her stuttering but he didn't stop.
'Whoa ... it's a little bit ... ambiguous...uhm ... massaging ... not my feet.' She stammered hoarsely but still had her forearm on her eyes. She felt Sherlock's hands stopping on her thigh but he didn't move away. Then after a moment Molly felt him rising a bit from his seat and as he removed his hands Molly felt sudden coldness and goose bumps on her thighs.
'Than let me clear my intentions.' He unexpectedly whispered just right next to her ear. She froze. She didn't even have the courage to breath. Then she felt his warm breath closer to her cheek and finally she felt herself brave enough to move her arm away and to open her eyes. All she could see was Sherlock's deep, green eyes glancing in the waning light examining every detail of her face. When she felt his warm lips on hers she moaned in surprise. He pulled away quickly and cleared his throat.
'I'm sorry.'
But Molly was sitting up almost at the same time as he was pulling back, sat in his lap and before she pressed her lips to his, she whispered.
'Don't be!'
She didn't know where the nerve came from; probably it could be thanked for the last gulp of her whiskey or just the fact that Sherlock Holmes wanted her.
The kiss was slow and clumsy at first but after a few minutes of practice and getting known each other, it grew into a faster and fiercer battle of lips, tongues and teeth. When they finally separated both panting, looking into each other's eyes, Sherlock broke the silence with his low, but husky voice.
'I don't want to use your spare room tonight.'
Molly's mouth curled up into a small, encouraging smile.
'Nor do I want you to use it.'

I love rewievs so if you liked it please let me know. If you don't, let me know anyway.

Thanks for reading.